


cut open my sternum and pull (my little ribs around you)

by inevitablemeow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes' Black Nail Polish, Crying During Sex, Dom Bucky Barnes, Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Living Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Marathon Sex, Marriage Proposal, Multiple Orgasms, No Beta We Cry Like Men, Not Canon Compliant, Rimming, Steve Rogers Is A Virgin, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Sub Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes, Topping from the Bottom, because I am physically incapable of not having them marry the fuck out of each other, but also topping from the top, but we say switch rights in this house, like a solitary moment of pining, oh look its the generally accepted side effect of the super soldier serum, soft steve rogers, the happy ending my boys deserve god dammit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29846697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inevitablemeow/pseuds/inevitablemeow
Summary: Steve doesn’t look up as Bucky makes his way into the living room, coming to stand in front of Steve at the couch. He sets his hands on his hips and gives Steve a smirk. “I think you were on that page when I left, weren’t you?”Steve huffs a laugh, dropping his book beside himself. “Spaced out.” He catches something in his peripheral vision and his eyes flick down to Bucky’s bare right hand, snagging on the flash of black he sees. “What, uh,” Steve says slowly. “What’s that?”Bucky lifts his hand and looks at it, and looks back at Steve with a wry grin. “The kids are doin’ it. Nail polish. Can you believe it? Woulda been shot for this in the forties.”Steve stops breathing for a few eternal seconds as his eyes catch on Bucky’s fingers, short nails neatly painted a jet black. His eyes glaze over, and he can’t stop himself from picturing how that would look with Bucky’s hand wrapped around his di—.--Bucky paints his nails, Steve feels Some Type Of Way.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 25
Kudos: 176





	cut open my sternum and pull (my little ribs around you)

Bucky has been gone all afternoon and Steve is more than a little anxious. 

_He’s fine_ , Steve tells himself, over and over. _He’s fine, he’s coming home, it’s just New York City. We’ve lived here for ages._

He waits in the living room, book open in his lap, though he hasn’t turned the page in an hour. Instead, his mind drifts.

It’s been a few years since Bucky’s come home, since he turned up on Steve’s doorstep one winter day looking half-frozen and starved with nothing but a backpack stuffed with journals.

(Steve wants so desperately to read those journals. He has since the moment he saw Bucky lovingly pull each one out of the bag and set them on his desk. There are seven of them, now, and Steve is pretty sure each one is for a different thing, though he’s never been able to outright ask.

It’s Bucky’s business, he decided early on. If Bucky wants to tell, he can. Steve can keep his mouth shut about it.

He’s good at keeping his mouth shut when he really needs to.)

It’s May, now, and they’ve settled into a quiet sort of existence together. It’s a ghost of the life they shared before, but Steve thinks it might be getting closer to being real again with every passing day.

There’s more life in the apartment than there was in the early days of Bucky’s return. It’s no longer silent as a tomb. Music plays softly on the radio in the living room, and the windows are cracked when the weather is nice, letting in the busy sounds of a busier city. 

_Things_ litter every surface of the apartment. Not clutter, really, but evidence of life. Real life. Books left open on the coffee table. Two empty mugs left on the counter, and two pairs of boots at the front door. A laptop that’s perpetually opened to Youtube. Knickknacks that the team has given them, trinkets from vacations, pictures, even a few shockingly hardy plants.

They talk more, Steve and Bucky. Sometimes about things that are heavy and painful, things that keep Steve awake at night, things that he knows make Bucky cry in solitude. But other times… lightness. Joking. Teasing. Memories shared and memories made.

And the best part, in Steve’s opinion; Bucky is laughing more. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes are back, smiling even when his lips aren’t. There’s a shine in those eyes that he’d missed every day that he was alone all the years that led him here. Silver irises sparkling in the sun like newly minted dimes.

Steve wants nothing more than to hear that laugh as much as he can. He’s greedy with it, cracking jokes just to watch Bucky make that face, to see the crinkles, to hear a laugh that’s pure like a bell being struck in a church tower.

He’s always wanted that laugh. He knows that a good deal of his humor is molded by that laugh, by what gets that reaction from the one person he cares about above all others.

Because he does care about Bucky. He cares in a way that makes him ache and pine like some lonely lover in the dime novels his mother used to eat up like candy. His want for Bucky is almost as old as he is; decades of it, a lifetime of it.

He loves Bucky in ways he shouldn’t. He has for ninety years. He will for a hundred more. There’s never been anyone for Steve but Bucky.

And the life that returns to this once cold apartment kindles the fire in his heart until it’s an inferno, burning him alive from the inside out. But he’ll never say a word. 

Call him a coward, he just doesn’t have the strength.

Steve snaps to attention when he hears heavy steps coming up the stairwell, and he knows Bucky’s home. He’s the only one who takes the stairs. The lock slides, and the door clicks open, and there he is looking as beautiful as ever.

His hair is up in a bun, today, and a pair of black sunglasses sits perched on his head. He's in one of his favorite henleys, forest green and soft, and his jeans are the kind of tight that makes Steve’s head swim.

“You in there, Stevie?” Bucky asks with a grin. His blue-silver eyes are shining with amusement, and Steve knows he’s been caught staring.

“Yeah,” Steve says, turning back to the book in his lap. He picks it up and acts like he’s reading it, but he has a feeling Bucky knows better. “You have a good time?”

“Walked for a while,” Bucky says as he kicks off his boots and locks the door. “Weather’s nice. Busy.”

Steve hums an acknowledgement and flips to the next page, eyes unfocused. “Where’d you go?”

“Uptown, just walked.”

Steve doesn’t look up as Bucky makes his way into the living room, coming to stand in front of Steve at the couch. He sets his hands on his hips and gives Steve a smirk. “I think you were on that page when I left, weren’t you?”

Steve huffs a laugh, dropping his book beside himself. “Spaced out.” He catches something in his peripheral vision and his eyes flick down to Bucky’s bare right hand, snagging on the flash of black he sees. “What, uh,” Steve says slowly. “What’s that?”

Bucky lifts his hand and looks at it, and looks back at Steve with a wry grin. “The kids are doin’ it. Nail polish. Can you believe it? Woulda been shot for this in the forties.”

Steve stops breathing for a few eternal seconds as his eyes catch on Bucky’s fingers, short nails neatly painted a jet black. His eyes glaze over, and he can’t stop himself from picturing how that would look with Bucky’s hand wrapped around his di—.

“Want me to do yours?” Bucky teases, smirking. Steve knows he can’t read minds, but he feels caught anyway.

“Uh,” he says, shaking his head. “No thanks. That can be a ‘you’ thing.”

“Alright,” Bucky says, easy as anything. “I offered.” He looks at his own hand again and his eyes flick up to Steve’s. There’s something there. Why does it look like hesitation? “What do you think?”

Steve’s brain whites out. Bucky’s strong hand looks _good_ like this, just a pop of black against his tanned skin. It makes his fingers look even longer, makes him look… different in a way Steve can’t quantify but loves none the less.

He swallows the lump that’s suddenly formed in his throat and nods dumbly. “It’s good, Buck. It’s good.” He clears his throat and hops up, hurrying into the kitchen to grab a beer out of the fridge. It won’t do much for him, but it’s something to do with his suddenly twitchy hands. 

He wants to touch. He wants to look up close. But he absolutely doesn’t want Bucky to see how affected he is by this development.

“Went to that bodega uptown,” Bucky says, following Steve into the kitchen to grab his own beer. It’ll do a little more for Bucky, but not much. They drink it to feel human.

“Mm,” Steve says, nodding as he takes a long drink. “That sandwich you like so much?”

Bucky grins. “And the one you like. ’S in the fridge.” His fingers are wrapped around the beer bottle, and from the angle Steve’s standing, he can perfectly see the black of his polish.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve murmurs, something warm sparking in his chest. He tears his eyes away from Bucky’s hand and takes another long pull. The beer is frosty, and the taste is pretty good. Some craft something or other that Bucky had picked up.

Craft beer, tight jeans, internet jokes, and now nail polish; Bucky had taken to this century like he was made for it.

“Anytime,” Bucky says, leaning back against the counter.

A moment stretches between them eternal, quiet but for the soft thunk of beer bottles being set on the counter. Steve can barely breathe, fighting everything in him that wants to watch Bucky’s fingers move.

Always so goddamn beautiful, this is just the icing on the cake. Steve’s heart is starting to hammer in his chest, and he suddenly feels like he needs to get out.

“Gonna go for a run,” he announces suddenly. “Got the jitters. I’ll burn it off in the park.”

Bucky ducks his head to catch Steve’s eye. “You okay?” he asks, frowning. “We went for a run this morning.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, maybe too quick. “Just, uh, need another one. Too much energy today, you know?”

“Okay,” Bucky says slowly, setting his beer down and pushing away from the counter. “Bring your phone.”

Steve rolls his eyes even through the nerves burning through him white-hot. “You can track me the whole way. I’ll be fine.”

“If you stand still too long I’m assuming you’ve been stopped and I’m comin’ to get you, punk,” Bucky says, brow furrowed. He’s never liked Steve going for runs alone. Prefers to be by his side. It makes Steve feel mushy.

“I know the drill, Bucky,” Steve says, shaking his head, smiling despite it. “Just an hour. A little one.”

“An hour,” Bucky agrees with a nod. “Good.”

Steve casts one last pitiful look at the black nail polish that will certainly haunt his whole run and backs away, excusing himself to his room.

He dresses quickly, tugs on his running shoes, and is out the door before Bucky can stop him for anything else.

——

The park is bright and warm as he runs laps along the sidewalks. It’s beautiful.

He usually loves people watching, seeing all the ways people have changed over the decades, and all the ways they are the same. Couples of all kinds, families that look different than what he grew up with, but still the same smiles and the same laughter. 

It would usually have all of his attention, but today he isn’t so lucky. He’s followed everywhere by the image of Bucky’s fingers wrapped around that damn beer bottle.

That hand could be roaming Steve’s bare body, black nails a stark contrast to his pale skin as they dig into his flesh. Bucky’s hands are beautiful, metal and human alike, and Steve wants more than anything to feel them against him. 

He wants to draw those hands, in any way he can. The way Bucky pops the cap off his beers with his left hand like it’s nothing. The way his fingers run through his own hair all day, until it’s artfully messy, eventually just bunching it all up in a bun. 

Steve could fill sketchbooks with those hands. He’s wanted to since he was a kid, since it was even more forbidden than it is now.

And no matter how much he tries to drag his head out of the gutter, no matter how hard he hums his favorite songs, or thinks about combat strategies, he can’t get the image of those black nails against his hard dick out of his head. 

There’s something about it that’s eating at Steve, making it hard to breathe from more than just the running.

He goes until his phone chimes, telling him he’s got ten minutes to get home. He doesn’t want Bucky to worry, so he turns on his heel and he heads back, heart pounding the whole way.

——

The sun is just starting to set by the time Steve gets home, and the evening light is burning orange and red through the windows in the living room. Bucky is sprawled out on the couch, phone on his chest, and even from the door Steve can see his map app open and he knows his own little dot is there where their apartment is.

Bucky isn’t facing the door, but Steve knows he’s awake.

“Thanks, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, voice thick like he wants to doze.

Steve toes off his shoes and kicks them aside, flips the locks on the door, and walks into the living room to stand in front of the couch. Bucky’s eyes are closed, and his right arm is up over his head. The left is on fire in the dying light of day.

“For what?” Steve asks quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace that has settled over the apartment.

Bucky’s eyes blink open and he looks up at Steve, brow furrowed. “Comin’ back on time. You know I worry.”

Steve knows it. It’s one of Bucky’s few holdovers from their old life, his worry for Steve. It’s why he tracks his phone. Bucky has said more than once how much of a relief it is to be able to just _find_ Steve, no wandering through Brooklyn looking down every alley for a mop of blond hair. 

“I know you do,” Steve says, affection blatant in his tone even to himself. “I’ll always come back. You know that.”

Bucky’s face softens as a barely-there smile crinkles his eyes. “Good,” he says, closing his map and tossing his phone to the floor. He lays his right hand over his chest, still lounging on the couch like a cat in the sun, and those nails are on display again. 

Steve has to work hard to tear his eyes away. 

“You hungry?” he asks, making himself walk away. He gets to the kitchen and digs around in the fridge, going over options for dinner. “I’ll make whatever you want.”

He jumps when a hand grips him by the bicep. 

“Not hungry,” Bucky says quietly, tugging gently at Steve to get him to turn. 

Steve looks down, sees black nails against his bare skin, and his brain short circuits. “Oh...” he says. “That’s fine, we don’t have to eat.” His eyes never leave Bucky’s hand. 

“Stevie,” Bucky says slowly. “Look at me.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and snap up to meet Bucky’s. He feels caught red-handed. “What?”

A smirk so familiar it makes Steve _ache_ stretches Bucky’s cheeks. “Whatcha lookin’ at there, pal?”

“Uh.” Steve feels completely at a loss, like he has no words for this, no way out. “Nothing,” he says, wholly unconvincing. 

“Mmhm,” Bucky hums. “The same nothing you’ve been lookin’ at since I got home. What is it? Don’t like it? I can take it off.”

“No!” Steve says quickly before he can think. His breath catches and he can feel a violent blush coloring his cheeks and neck. “I mean, not if you don’t want to. I don’t mind it.”

Bucky’s smile becomes predatory in a half a second. “I don’t think I will. Kinda like the effect it has, don’t you?”

Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times as he fights for words. “Uh-huh.” His eyes haven’t left Bucky’s the whole while, but he feels Bucky’s hand grip him tighter. 

“Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, in what can only be described as a purr. His head tilts and his eyes dig right into Steve’s soul. “Tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

“I can’t,” Steve says automatically, moving to pull away. Bucky’s hand just grips him tighter, fingers digging into his muscle. 

“You can,” Bucky says, nodding slowly. “You can tell me anything you want. I wanna hear it.”

Steve chokes back a pitiful whine and pulls free from Bucky’s death grip. “You don’t,” he breathes, brow furrowing as he shakes his head. He can’t do this, not to Bucky. Not after everything. 

He can’t, even though his heart _wants_ like it’s never wanted anything in his life. 

Bucky sighs, dropping his hand. “Please,” he says, so quiet that Steve’s sure he wouldn’t have heard him in his old body. 

And Bucky looks so sad in this moment, like the world sits on his shoulders and he’s tired of carrying it. He wore this look often when he’d first come back to Steve, when he was first finding himself again. He never looked like that before the war, like he’s been stripped of something deep.

Steve never wants to see that look again, and he’d rather die than be the cause of it anymore. It burns a little of the fear out of him, but not much. It makes him resign himself to his fate. It’s time, he guesses, to finally breathe life into his feelings. 

“I… I’ll tell you,” he says slowly. “I’m just...”

Bucky moves closer and lays a warm hand over Steve’s sternum. Steve’s sure he can feel his heart thumping a mile a minute. “Just what?”

“Scared,” Steve whispers, and it’s a confession that shakes him to the depths. When has Steve Rogers ever been scared? He feels weaker for it, out of his own head, and it makes the fear turn sour, anxiety dripping through him slow and sticky. 

Bucky’s brows raise, and Steve knows he’s thinking it, too. “What are you scared of? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that word before. Tell me I can fix it. _Tell me_.” His fingers clench in the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt. 

Steve sighs, and his eyes close. A distinct memory hits him like a brick. 

_He’s eighteen years old, and he’s standing in the lobby of Bucky’s apartment building. He has a suitcase in his hand, and it’s full of drawings of his mother. He feels lost, like the rug has been yanked out from under his feet, and he’s tired. So tired. His heart pounds with an acute sense of loss, and he wants to weep._

This feels dangerously close to that. 

“Can’t lose you,” he finally says, eyes blinking open to find concern etched into every line of Bucky’s handsome face. “Not again.”

He can see the moment Bucky’s heart breaks, and it makes him want to cry. “Why would you ever think you’d lose me? What could possibly take me away from you ever again?” He says the words fiercely, like he desperately needs Steve to hear them. 

“Me, Buck,” Steve croaks, horrified to find himself close to tears. “You’ll see me different. You won’t like it. It’s _me_.”

“Steven Grant,” Bucky says through his teeth before he softens again with a sigh. “There’s not a damn thing about you that I don’t love with my whole heart. Please, tell me what you need to tell me.”

Steve is struck through the heart with a love so acute he can feel it in his chest, in his stomach, in his throat. It chokes him, makes it hard to breathe, makes his head go fuzzy. There hasn’t been a single other person in his whole life who’d made him feel this way. No one.

“I…” he says slowly, frowning as he sniffles once, fighting back the tears that are threatening to fall. “I don’t know how.”

Bucky nods, and Steve knows he’s being patient, and he appreciates that he is. “You wanna go sit?”

Steve lets out a shaky breath and nods his head, but his feet don’t move like he wants them to. He feels glued to the floor, but in the same instance he feels like he’s out of his own body. Fear beats through him like a hurricane. Everything will be different very soon.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “We can sit.”

Bucky takes his arm again and pulls him out of the kitchen, settling him into his spot on the couch. Bucky takes his own seat, sits back in the cushions like he hasn’t got a care in the world, and he waits.

Steve watches him for a moment, gaping a little as he fights for words. He can see something in Bucky’s eyes that he hasn’t got a name for, and it’s making this even harder. 

“Bucky, I just don’t know how to do this,” he says finally, sinking down into his seat like the couch will swallow him up and spare him.

“You got time,” Bucky says gently. “I’m here.” He folds his beautiful hands in his lap, thumbs brushing in a nervous pattern that Steve knows very well, and he holds Steve’s gaze with a steadiness that makes Steve’s heart stutter.

Steve sits up straighter, eyes going wide as they flick around Bucky’s face. When he looks Bucky in the eye, the blue-silver of them is molten, mesmerizing. He finds that his chest aches, and everything goes so quiet that he can almost make out the conversation the neighbors are having about dinner.

Traffic moves fast and loud outside, ringing in his ears, and his vision narrows down to just those _eyes_ , and nothing else.

Every second that passes has Bucky shrinking back, face softening into the neutral mask he wears when he’s upset. Steve can’t stand it.

“I love you,” he blurts, words tumbling from his lips like marbles. “Bucky, I love you so goddamn much.” He passes a shaking hand over his face, runs it through his hair. “I have since we were twelve years old.”

Light comes back to Bucky’s eyes in an instant, and the softest smile curls his lips. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

Steve sighs, squeezing his eyes shut as relief rolls over him in a visceral way. “You’re not mad?” he asks, voice soft.

He can feel the couch cushions shift as Bucky stands, and then Bucky is just _there_ , in his space, and Steve blinks his eyes open as Bucky settles himself in his lap.

“Not mad, honey,” Bucky murmurs, cupping Steve’s face in his hands. The contrast between his warm palm and the cool metal one brings Steve out of his own head some. “Why would I be mad at you, huh? How could I be mad when I love you so much?”

Steve gasps almost inaudibly, and a calm he’s never felt in his life washes over him like an ocean wave. He sags where he sits, body going loose as Bucky sits perched in his lap. “You love me.”

Bucky huffs a laugh and he grins. “I do. More than anything. _I have since we were twelve_.” 

“You never said,” Steve says, and his voice is small in a way it never is. 

Bucky’s smile slides off his face and his eyes flutter closed as he heaves a great sigh. “Steve,” he says. “They woulda killed us for it.” His eyes open and they’re harder. “You remember Tommy Braddock? And Leo?”

Steve sucks in a breath through his teeth and turns his head to the side. He can’t stand the hurt on Bucky’s face. “I remember.” He sees sparkling green eyes, hears laughter that’s like rolling summer thunder. He sees two men in a deep love, a real love. 

And he remembers not seeing them anymore. 

“Yeah. They found them in the river a week after they started going steady. Beaten to a pulp. We were seventeen.” Bucky grips Steve’s chin in a firm hold and makes him meet his eyes. “They woulda killed us. They woulda killed _you._ ” 

And Steve knows it’s true. They grew up in a forgiving neighborhood, but that wasn’t the way of the rest of the world. They had neighbors who loved each other in secret, in fear. 

“You’re right,” he says, ducking his head to tuck his face against the warm skin of Bucky’s throat. 

Bucky’s flesh and bone hand comes up to cradle Steve’s head. His touch is gentle, and it makes Steve’s heart feel lighter despite it all. 

“And I waited, when we were together again,” Bucky says. “Would wait for you forever.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve breathes, lips brushing Bucky’s skin. His hands clutch Bucky’s shirt like it’s all he’s got in him. 

“No,” Bucky says, voice sharp. “Absolutely not.” He cups Steve’s head in his hands and lifts Steve to look at him. His eyes are on fire. “I’m not sorry. You shouldn’t be. We got a whole life ahead of us, Stevie, just you and me.”

He bends forward and Steve’s breath catches as Bucky’s lips ghost over his own. “Besides,” Bucky murmurs, and he’s so close Steve has to close his eyes. “We’re free, now, honey. Walk down any street and you see two fellas holdin’ hands. Girls kissin’ on each other. We’re _free_.”

Steve can’t help but crack a watery smile, and he knows Bucky can feel it where he’s still almost-kissing him. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Free.”

Bucky huffs a soft laugh and he kisses Steve, quick and soft. “Now,” he says. “I want you to tell me what you really think of the polish, Steve.” He’s smirking like he knows a secret, one Steve has been holding close to his heart for a long time. 

“Jesus,” Steve whispers. He can’t find words for a minute, brain scrambled as it flips through image after image of those black nails against his skin. “I want your hands on me,” he says softly. “Please.”

Bucky grins like a wolf as his hands go to the hem of Steve’s t-shirt. “That what you want, honey? My hands all over you?” He tugs Steve’s shirt up slow, like he’s savoring it, and Steve can’t suppress his shudder. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, nearly inarticulate as he looks down to see Bucky rucking up his shirt. 

There’s that temperature contrast again, and it raises goosebumps over his skin. Bucky gets his shirt up to his shoulders and Steve leans forward to shrug out of it. 

Bucky sits back, lust-heavy eyes raking over Steve’s bare chest. “Want my hands on you, too, Stevie,” he purrs, smoothing his palms up Steve’s abdomen. “Look at you. So goddamn pretty. Always so pretty.”

Steve whimpers, arching into the touch, and he gasps when Bucky thumbs over one nipple. “Fuck,” he croaks, eyes sliding closed. 

“Watch me, Steve,” Bucky says, and there’s command to his voice. Steve melts with it, snapping his eyes open. “You wanted my hands on you, want you to watch.”

Steve looks down and his breath catches. The black of Bucky’s nails is such a sharp contrast to his pale skin, even better than he’d imagined. Bucky presses his fingers into the muscle of one pectoral, kneading softly, drawing a breathy moan from Steve’s lips. 

Steve’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, aching with every rapid beat of his heart. “Bucky,” he cries softly, eyes never leaving those hands. “Please.”

Bucky’s smile is adoring. “Please what, sweetheart?” he murmurs, still kneading his fingers into Steve’s muscles. His hands slide lower, nails raking hard over Steve’s skin, dragging pretty red marks down his belly that Steve knows will be gone too soon. 

Steve moans and arches up, hips bucking as he throws his head back. “I can’t,” he says, voice embarrassingly close to a whine.

Bucky hums, bending in close as his hands find the waistband of Steve’s shorts. “You can, Steve,” he says, pressing the words into Steve’s blood-hot cheek. “You will. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve breathes, leaning into the soft touch of Bucky’s lips against his cheek. 

Bucky chuckles, breath ghosting over Steve’s ear. “Yeah, we will. Ask pretty, I’ll give it to you.”

A few slow blinks and Steve’s brain melts down to nothing. He knows exactly what he wants. “Been dreaming of your hand on my dick all day, Buck, come on,” he says, voice just this side of desperate. “Please.”

Bucky huffs, and his hips roll in Steve’s lap. He scoots back on Steve’s thighs and tugs Steve’s shorts down enough to let his cock free. It bounces up against Steve’s belly, and Steve can’t help the pitiful sound he makes. 

He’s aching, hot all over. He can’t stand it. He’s not sure he’ll make it out of this alive.

“Is that what’s had you worked up all day?” Bucky says softly. “You see my nails painted pretty and you want ‘em on you?”

“Yeah,” Steve whines, hands gripping Bucky tight by the waist. His fingers flex into the muscle there, and he digs in deep like it’s the only thing holding him to the earth. 

“You’d better look, then,” Bucky says with a grin. 

Steve looks down just in time to see that hand curl around his cock, black nails looking so much better than Steve could have ever dreamed. Strong fingers, tight grip, tanned skin against Steve’s blood-flushed cock. A dream.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve moans. “So much better than I pictured.”

Bucky laughs, the bastard, and he squeezes tighter and gives Steve’s cock one solid pump. His long hair is falling free of its bun, and a few devastating strands hang over his eye. He’s easily the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen.

“Buck,” Steve gasps, and his face flushes hot. Something like shame is sitting on his chest and he can’t breathe with it. He pulls back, tipping his face to the side in his best effort to hide. “I…”

Bucky’s grip loosens as he tilts his head. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Steve’s mind boils down to the only memory he has of being like this before, one summer night when he was twenty-two years old. A pretty girl, a lot of pity, and a night of disappointment all around. It’s eighty years later and Bucky’s only the second person to touch him like this.

He feels like he’s going to burn alive. “I’ve never…” he breathes, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’ve just never.”

Bucky’s hand leaves his cock and Steve cracks his eyes open. He’s surprised at what he finds.

There’s a raw hunger in Bucky’s eyes that chokes the breath out of Steve’s lungs. The silver of them is hot and liquid as Bucky rakes them down Steve’s face and over his chest to land at his flushed cock.

“You’ve never…” Bucky says, voice gravelly and low as his eyes flick back up. “Never.”

It’s awfully hard for Steve to feel ashamed with the way Bucky’s looking at him, like he wants to eat him alive. “Never,” he says softly.

Bucky’s quiet for a painful moment, but Steve can see the way his breathing has picked up, the steady jump of his pulse under the soft skin of his throat, the way his dick is hard in his jeans. 

“Mine,” Bucky finally croaks, and it’s the first time all evening that Steve has heard him like that. Overcome.

He opens his mouth to make excuses but Bucky dives in, catching him in a heart-stopping kiss. Steve moans with it, can’t help himself, and Bucky licks into his mouth and sucks on his tongue in a way that has him humping the air.

He sinks his fingers in Bucky’s hair and holds him close, kissing back with everything he’s got. He doesn’t have Bucky’s finesse, but he’s got a lifetime of longing to make up for it.

Bucky kisses like it’s all he wants to do for the rest of his life, devouring Steve to his very core. His tongue is hot and wet, and his teeth pull at Steve’s lip, making the flesh sting so sweetly. His hands are everywhere. Every so often he lets out the most devastating breathy moan, and Steve wants nothing more than this for the rest of his days.

His neglected cock weeps between them, leaving a spot of wet on Steve’s belly, and Steve groans when it rubs over the soft fabric of Bucky’s henley. Bucky huffs a wet laugh right into Steve, and his warm hand slides down Steve’s side like he’s counting his ribs.

The barest brush of his knuckles over the hot skin of Steve’s cock has Steve crying out. “Bucky,” he whines against Bucky’s lips.

Bucky moans, flicking his tongue out for another taste before he leans back. “How you wanna do this, sweetheart?” he says, so gently. “You can have anything.”

“I…” Steve says slowly, still panting a little as his hands find Bucky’s waist again. “I don’t know.” He’s never gotten this far, and it has never mattered so much as it does now.

Bucky’s expression softens, and it makes Steve’s chest warm through. “How ‘bout,” he says, eyes shining with adoration. “How ‘bout you let me take care of you? Hm? I’ll make it so good for you, babydoll, want it to be so good.”

That warm hand grips his cock again, fingers squeezing and releasing, and Steve sucks in a harsh breath. “Whatever you want, Buck,” he says, struggling through every word. 

Bucky hums, visibly pleased, and pulls himself from Steve’s grip. “Why don’t you come with me, come lay down. You wanna?”

Steve’s brain whites out again at the thought of Bucky in a bed, and he nods dumbly as Bucky leans into a graceful stand. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I wanna.”

Bucky tugs his shorts back up, takes him by the hand, and leads him stumbling to his room, kicking open the door and flicking on the light. It’s cozy in here, a desk and a chair, a bed and a high dresser. Books everywhere, art on the walls. 

_My art_ , Steve thinks, heart kicking hard against his ribs.

He trips over his feet on his way to the bed, and finally flops down gracelessly into the soft navy comforter. 

Bucky laughs. “You alright, pal?” he asks, deeply amused.

Steve tosses him a lopsided grin, still a little breathless. “I am. Promise.”

“Good,” Bucky says, looking so sweet. His hands go to his belt and slide the leather through the loop. The clinking of the buckle is loud, obscene in the silent room. 

Steve can’t help but watch those hands pull the belt free and drop it to the floor. Or those hands popping the button and opening the fly. Or those _hands_ tugging stupid-tight jeans over a thick waist and thicker thighs. 

He can’t help himself. Bucky looks so goddamn good in the low light of the desk lamp. The bulb casts an orange glow over his bare skin, and he looks made of gold. The black of his polish reflects yellow like a candle flame, and he wants to draw that, the way the light shines and the black stands as a stark contrast. 

Bucky steps out of his pants and his hands go to his henley and pull, and Steve chokes. 

More muscle, more golden skin. The silver of his left arm is lit up like a forest fire, shining and strong. Its horrific origin doesn’t detract from how stunning it is, how perfect. And he wants to draw that, too. 

Steve’s eyes finally flick back up, and Bucky is watching him with a shit-eating grin. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, Stevie,” he teases. 

And it’s true. Steve’s seen him in nothing at all more than once in their stupidly long lives. But this is just... “‘s different,” he says, flushed hot. 

He looks down again, still can’t help himself, and he sees the way Bucky’s thick cock is tenting his boxer briefs. He burns impossibly hotter and squeezes his eyes shut. 

The bed dips and he whimpers, anticipation making him shake. He opens his eyes when Bucky appears above him, and he almost hurts with how good it feels to have him there. 

“Stevie,” Bucky coos. “You okay? We can stop whenever you want.”

Steve almost whines. “Don’t want to. Just new.”

“Good new?” Bucky asks, brow furrowed. 

Steve sighs and smiles softly. “Good new.”

Bucky flashes a quick grin and bends in to steal another kiss. It’s deep and slow, and everything Steve wants. Bucky’s hand finds its way to Steve’s hair and tugs and it’s so good that Steve cries out. 

A smirk. “You like that, sweetheart?” Bucky asks. “Want a little more?”

He tugs again, a little harder, and Steve moans deep and rough. He’s surprised at the noise, that he can sound like that. But it’s Bucky, so of course he can. 

They kiss, and they kiss, and they kiss, and every passing minute has Steve sagging into the mattress, body going loose with a honey-thick pleasure that moves sluggishly through his veins. He’s never felt so good in all his life. He wants nothing else for the rest of it. 

Panting quietly, Bucky pulls back with a soft smack of lips. His mouth hangs open and he looks down at Steve like he’s drugged. 

“Shit,” he breathes, bending down for another deep kiss like he can’t help himself. Groaning, he pulls away. “Fuck, Stevie. I wanna ride you. Can I ride you?”

Steve chokes on a pitiful wounded sound as his hips jerk up. His hard cock nestles right against Bucky’s ass and it’s divine. 

“Please,” he begs. “Please, Buck. I want it.”

“Oh, honey,” Bucky purrs, eyes shining. He rolls his hips down hard and he chuckles breathlessly at the sound Steve makes. “You wanna be inside me? Fill me up good, make me come on your cock?”

Steve gasps, eyes going wide as he watches Bucky’s smirk deepen. That voice saying those things, Steve can’t breathe. 

“Oh, baby, me too,” Bucky says sweetly. He sits back, putting his weight over Steve’s aching cock, and Steve whines.

“Yeah,” Steve pants, digging his fingers into Bucky’s hips. His thumbs dip under the waistband of Bucky’s underwear, and Bucky’s eyelids droop. 

“Need your help first,” Bucky says, leaning over to tug open the drawer of his nightstand. He steals another kiss while he’s there, biting hard at Steve’s lip. Steve cries with it. 

A bottle lands by Steve’s hip and he gropes around to pick it up. It’s lube. 

“Jesus,” he hisses, tossing his head back with a deep groan. “You’re killin’ me, baby.”

Bucky whines and his eyes go wide, and Steve wants to witness that every day for the rest of his life. “ _Steve_ ,” he says, voice so soft. His fingers clench into the muscle of Steve’s abdomen. 

“Oh,” Steve says stupidly, a little far gone. He’s aware enough to see how the red of Bucky’s cheeks has spread down his neck, how his breath is uneven and quick, how his mouth hangs open and his eyes blink heavily. 

Steve smiles. “You like that?” he says, finding a dash of confidence just from the look in Bucky’s eyes. “Want me sweet on you?” His hands slide up over Bucky’s sides, fingertips tripping over his ribs. He can feel Bucky’s full body shudder. Steve hums, pleased. 

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, nodding slowly. “Yeah.”

“You’re beautiful, baby,” Steve murmurs, eyes raking over every inch of Bucky’s body. They land on his cock, glossy tip peeking over the waistband of his boxer briefs. Steve presses his hand to it and curls his fingers. 

The sound Bucky makes is transcendent. His hips jerk into Steve’s hand, and he chokes on a little _ah. “Steve,_ ” he cries. 

Steve huffs, overcome. “Tell me what to do,” he croaks. “I’ll give you anything.”

Bucky moans and sits up on his knees, shoving his boxers down to kick them off. His cock falls free, flushed a deep red, twitching against Bucky’s thigh. “Need you to get me ready, Stevie,” he pants, movements quicker than they were before. “Want your thick fingers in me.”

Steve about loses his mind grabbing for the lube. The soft snap of a cap opening cracks through the air, and it’s such a lewd sound. Anticipation hangs heavy around them. 

“What do I do?”

Bucky half-smiles. “Go slow. Fill me up. Make me come.”

“Shit,” Steve hisses, and God does he want that. He knows it’s got to be beautiful, Bucky losing himself to orgasm. He wants it so badly he can’t think straight. 

He’s got enough sense to pull Bucky forward in his lap, settling him high on Steve’s belly. Bucky’s panting, and Steve knows he wants it bad. 

He wraps his arm around Bucky’s waist and slips his fingers under, pressing around until he finds what he’s looking for. He knows he’s got it right when Bucky sobs once, rough and needy. 

“Like this?” Steve’s asks, breathless. He watches Bucky’s face with eyes wide with wonder, losing himself in how perfect Bucky looks. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, voice a fraction higher. “In me, Stevie, c’mon.”

Steve groans and presses just the tip of his slick finger past the ring of muscle. Bucky’s hot inside, tight, and Steve needs it around his cock like he’s never needed anything before. “So soft, baby,” he breathes, watching as Bucky’s face twists with pleasure. “Like velvet.”

Bucky huffs a soft _mmf,_ rocking his hips back into Steve’s hand. It sinks Steve’s finger a little further, and it’s perfect. “More,” Bucky begs. “Please, more. Need it.” 

He tilts his head down to blink slowly at Steve, eyes bright. “‘S so goddamn hard keeping myself from jumping you about once an hour,” he says, chuckling breathlessly. “All the goddamn time.”

With a huff, Steve drags his finger out slow and slides back in, easy as anything. He decides immediately that he loves this. “Baby,” Steve croaks. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, smiling. “ _All_ the goddamn time. Wanna bend over the counter for you, kneel in front of the couch for you, fuck you against the wall. I hurt with it, Stevie, with how much I love you.”

Steve sucks in a rough breath and he groans. “Love you, Buck. More than anything. I want you however I can have you, for the rest of my life.”

Bucky moans and rolls his hips again. “Another,” he growls. 

Steve gives it to him, sliding in slowly, slowly until his fingers are buried to the knuckle. Bucky is fire-hot inside. It’s sublime. 

“Fuck,” Bucky says, breathing heavier. “Gimme one more.”

Steve groans and complies, spreading his fingers once he’s in deep. Bucky’s hips jerk and his hand goes to his own cock. Steve smacks it away and grips it instead. 

“Want you to come like this, baby,” he says softly. “Come on my fingers. Please.”

Bucky whines and nods, rocking his hips in a languid, steady rhythm. Steve slides his fingers in deep and pulls them out, over and over, fingers hooking on the rim every third stroke. 

He looks up and sees tears in Bucky’s eyes. “Oh, sweet thing,” Steve coos. “Is it good?”

“So fucking good,” Bucky breathes. “So good. Gonna come like this, sweetheart. Make me feel so good.”

Steve’s chest swells with pride and he grins. He drops Bucky’s cock to pat around for the lube until he finds it, pouring a little over him. He wraps his hand around him again and strokes. This, he knows how to do.

He starts slow, fingers still scissoring deep, hand a vise grip on Bucky’s cock. Every sound out of Bucky’s mouth is an encouragement, and Steve feels hot all over. 

“Steve,” Bucky sobs, heavy eyes on Steve’s. “Shit.” He shudders and lets out a shaky breath. “‘M gonna—“

“Fuck, baby,” Steve groans, strokes of his hand long and hard. “Come on, give it to me. Want it.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky whines, high in his throat. His breath hitches in his chest as his hips stutter hard, and with an aching groan he comes, mouth hanging open as he ruts helplessly between Steve’s hands. 

The warm splash of Bucky’s come drips into the hollow of Steve’s throat, and it makes Steve’s belly burn something fierce. Something about being marked like that hits him in his lizard brain, and he wants it again. 

He feels it slide down the side of his neck, and he pants and whines as it cools on his skin. 

Bucky is above him, still and quiet but for his breath coming quick and rough. Steve looks up and finds his eyes wide and wet. 

“Jesus wept, Steve,” he says. “That was fucking _good_.”

Steve wants to cry he’s so worked up. His hips buck, and his clothed cock brushes Bucky’s ass. “Please,” he breathes. “Bucky, please.” He’s never begged so much in all his life, but it feels good. Feels right. 

And Bucky likes it, if the look in his eye says anything. “Beg so pretty, honey, how could I deny you?”

He shuffles back, dragging Steve’s shorts down as he goes, and the loss of pressure on Steve’s cock is a relief. He groans with it, but the relief doesn’t last long before Bucky’s crawling back up and reaching back to grip him tight. The cold drip of lube on his cock makes Steve jump.

“God, look at you,” Bucky purrs as he strokes. “Bet you’re gonna feel so good, aren’t you. You want it?”

Steve just nods, breathing heavy as anticipation shoots through him electric. 

Bucky grins, lopsided, and he presses the head of Steve’s cock to his loose hole. He sinks down slow, and it’s so good Steve’s eyes roll a little. 

He finds that he’s holding his breath, and he has to fight to make his lungs work as Bucky slides down an inch at a time. It’s so much better than he’d ever imagined, and it fulfills something deep down in the pits of him.

“Fuck,” Bucky groans as he seats himself, ass flush to Steve’s hips. “ _God_ , that’s good.”

“Baby,” Steve whines, fingers digging into the meat of Bucky’s thighs. He’s struggling to not move, even though instinct wants him to take and take. 

“Gonna move, now,” Bucky says, breathless. 

His hips make one smooth roll, and Steve’s vision whites out. Another has Steve near-crying. A third has him bucking up hard. 

Bucky huffs a moan. “Yeah, honey, come on. Take what you want.”

A rough groan cracks through the air like thunder and Steve is only barely aware that he’s made that sound. His fingers dig in deeper, enough that he’s sure Bucky’s golden skin will bruise, but the sharp jerk of Bucky’s hips tells him to do it harder so he does. Steve bucks his hips again, bouncing Bucky in his lap, and Bucky weeps. 

“Baby,” Steve croaks, meeting every smooth roll of Bucky’s hips with a sharp thrust. “Never felt somethin’ so good.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Bucky groans. “Don't I know it.” He rides Steve hard, and it makes Steve’s blood burn through him like a forest on fire. 

The sound of skin on skin fills the bedroom, and tears gather in Steve’s eyes as he moves fluidly with Bucky like it’s all they were made to do. It’s so good, perfect. Everything. 

Bucky’s right hand presses hard to Steve’s belly, and Steve looks down to see those nails again as Bucky runs his hand up Steve’s chest, fingers pressing in deep. He smears through the mess on Steve’s neck, and those fingers wrap lightly around his throat. 

It’s a claiming move. Blatant. Steve’s brain shorts out. 

“You’re a mess, sweetheart,” Bucky purrs, even as he pants above Steve. He’s rocking harder, now, fucking himself on Steve’s cock like he’s desperate for it. His own flushed cock hangs heavy between his flexing thighs. “Look so pretty all marked up.”

“Fuck,” Steve curses, hips jerking up harder. He bares his throat under Bucky’s fingers, an invitation, and Bucky huffs as his fingers curl tighter. The pure _submission_ of it feels more right than anything else in his whole life.

He lets Bucky hold him like that for what feels like a blissful eternity, strong fingers digging into the soft flesh of his throat. Bucky’s eyes keep flicking to his own hand, heavy lidded with his lust. Steve keeps up the steady snap of his hips, and he feels lightheaded with it all. 

Suddenly, Steve is possessed by a want so sharp he can feel it slip between his ribs to bury in his heart. With a needy groan he hooks his ankles over Bucky’s and rolls, landing on his elbows above him. Bucky lets out a startled moan as his back hits the bed, head thrown back as he pants and whines. 

Steve drives in hard, burying himself to the hilt with a grunt. A slow slide out and he fucks in again, quick and deep. Bucky pants pretty little _ah, ah’s,_ hands fisted in the pillow under his head. His knees come up, opening himself up so sweetly that Steve can’t help but give it to him harder. 

And _this,_ this stokes a primal sort of fire in Steve’s belly that has him growling his pleasure, driving in hard with every thrust. He wants to take, to possess, and he knows Bucky will let him. 

“Fuck, Stevie,” Bucky pants. “Yeah, like that. Give it to me.”

A few more hard thrusts and Steve can feel heat pooling in his belly. It’s a familiar feeling ratcheted up tenfold by the absolute adoration thrumming in his veins. He gasps with it, eyes wide and wet. He looks down, and Bucky’s watching him with a soft, dopey smile as he bounces with every sharp thrust of Steve’s hips. 

He meets Steve’s eyes and that smile goes wicked in an instant. “Want you to fill me up, make me yours. Come on, give it to me, sweetheart, let go.”

Steve sucks in a harsh breath. “Fuck, baby,” he groans. “Can’t talk like that. Shit.”

Bucky huffs a breathless laugh and tilts his head back as he grins, defiant, looking up at Steve through his lashes. “I want it.”

Steve’s eyes drag over Bucky’s face down to his bare throat, and something as old as time slithers up his spine. He bends in before he realizes he’s doing it, and he sinks his teeth into Bucky’s soft skin. 

Bucky cries out, sharp but pleasure-filled. His head tips back as he makes room for Steve and his fingers bury in his hair, clutching like Steve’s his anchor. 

The heat in Steve’s belly roars into an inferno. “ _Baby_ ,” he sobs against the slick skin of Bucky’s throat, fucking in hard as he chases the release he can almost taste. 

Bucky nods frantically, pulling Steve impossibly closer. “Yeah. _Yeah_.”

With a broken cry, Steve shoves in hard and holds there, teeth bared against Bucky’s throat, cock throbbing as he empties deep. He groans, a pitiful sound, and he collapses to Bucky’s chest. He can’t help but rut into the heat the grips him, slow rolls of his hips that go lazier with each move. 

And then Bucky’s whining and Steve feels his cock jump against his belly and there’s that warm, wet feeling all over again. Steve looks down, eyes wide as they trace over the mess that smears between them. 

Bucky whimpers and mewls, pretty sounds that make Steve growl. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, rubbing his fingers through the mess. Another want has him bending down to lick over it. It’s a sharp taste, bitter, but it makes him hot all over. 

“Oh, god,” Bucky gasps, and he’s rocking up again like he can’t help himself, cock still hard between them. “You can’t just do that to me.”

Steve huffs, giving him another hard lick before he’s lifting up on his palms. “You got another?” he asks softly, and he hopes so much that he does. He’s greedy for it, for the way Bucky looks and sounds and feels when he loses himself completely. He wants more, he wants it all the time. 

Bucky chokes on a wounded sound, and it’s all the confirmation Steve needs. He slips carefully from the hot clutch of Bucky’s body and shimmies down the bed, laying on his belly between Bucky’s legs. He thinks he knows what to do. 

He presses his fingers in as soft and sweet as he can, pinning Bucky’s hips to the bed with his free hand. Bucky squirms helplessly, whining quietly as Steve drags his fingers out only to push back in. Steve’s come eases the way. It’s pure sin. 

There are pretty bruises in the shape of Steve’s fingers on Bucky’s thighs, and he lays his hand over them to match. _Sin_. He is a paper house, and Bucky is the lit match that sets him on fire.

“Babydoll,” Steve coos, moaning as Bucky’s ass clenches around his fingers. “Come on sweet thing, I want it.”

“Oh,” Bucky whines, soft and slow. All the heat of his words before has simmered down to a low flame, and he’s languorous with his pleasure. Steve knows he’s close already, knows he’s spent and exhausted. But Steve’s greedy for it anyway. “ _Stevie_.”

Steve groans, deeply satisfied, and another want strikes him through. He bends down and wraps his lips around Bucky’s cock, sucking gently and bobbing his head down and up as best he can with his fingers buried in the clutch of Bucky’s body. 

Bucky cries out, surprised, and Steve barely gets a few strokes in before Bucky’s yanking at his hair. Steve realizes what he’s doing and doubles down with a shake of his head. 

“ _Oh, fuck_ ,” Bucky breathes, and that’s it. His cock jumps hard, and the salty tang of his come floods Steve’s mouth. It’s near a religious experience, taking Bucky like that, and Steve looks up the long line of Bucky’s body to watch his face twist with a deep pleasure. 

He swallows around Bucky’s half-hard cock and watches a few tears spill from Bucky’s pretty eyes. His lashes are dark and clumped together, and his eyes are glossy and near-black. 

A pained groan reverberates through the room as Bucky sags to the bed panting. He whimpers as he slides out of Steve’s mouth and Steve is so deeply, smugly satisfied that he can think of nothing else. 

Bucky is so beautiful like this; boneless and spent, flushed red and glistening with a sheen of sweat. His long hair is fanned out over the pillow, a crown of dark caramel brown. His eyes are open, half-lidded, and he blinks slowly as he watches Steve watch him. 

Steve is overcome, and he drops his forehead to Bucky’s thick thigh to hide his face. His hands spread over Bucky’s waist, touching as much as he can. He feels like he’s floating, and he feels more satisfied than he ever has. 

He rolls his head and presses a kiss to the soft skin of Bucky’s inner thigh. Bucky pets through his hair sweetly, and Steve feels more relaxed than he has in maybe his whole life. 

Time goes loose around them, and Steve listens to the neighbors sing in their kitchen, the hum of evening traffic, the beeping of a microwave above them. Life, on all sides of the apartment he’s lucky enough to call home.

The sun’s nearly gone for the day, just barely burning red and purple across the floor, and Steve sighs as he sinks further into his contentment.

If he could have nothing else but this forever, he’d take it. The warmth of Bucky’s skin under his cheek, the plush mattress sinking under his weight, the steady rise and fall of Bucky’s chest under his hand.

He’d take it.

“So you like it, then,” Bucky murmurs after what must be an eternity. His fingers are still threaded through Steve’s hair, but unmoving. Just a possessive hold that makes Steve’s head light.

“Hmm?” he hums, eyes blinking heavily. He feels a nap creeping up on him, and he fights it back.

Bucky chuckles, fingers tightening in Steve’s hair. “The polish.”

The dopey grin that Steve cracks is slow and satisfied. “I do. You can keep doing that.”

“Oh, can I,” Bucky teases. “That good, huh?”

Steve lifts his head to shoot Bucky a wry grin. “You could wear a potato sack and I’d still want you to fuck the life out of me, Buck.”

Bucky grins, toothy and heated. “That so. Well. I’m sticky, you’re sticky, how ‘bout we shower and I show you how good a blow job can be?”

“ _Holy_ shit,” Steve breathes, squeezing his eyes shut. He wants it. His dick wants it, too.

“C’mon,” Bucky says, tugging at Steve’s hair as he moves out from under him. He swings his strong legs over the side of the bed and stretches like a cat, naked as the day he was born. When he looks at Steve, there’s command there again. “Get up, let’s go.”

Steve climbs out of bed and stumbles forward a few steps, drawn like a magnet to the authority Bucky radiates like it’s easy. He wants to be on his knees for this man.

His face must say it because Bucky smirks as his eyes rake down Steve’s body and back up, catching on his half-hard cock. “Like me being bossy?”

Steve swallows, throat sticking. “Uh,” he says slowly. “Maybe?”

Bucky hums in thought, head cocked. “That what you need, sweetheart? Someone to tell you what to do?”

The sun is gone, now, and the only light in the room is from that small desk lamp. It glows orange in the depths of Bucky’s darkened eyes. Steve hasn’t got any words left, just stares stupidly as Bucky sizes him up.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, grinning again. “I know it. Go get in the shower, honey. Warm it up for us.”

Steve is quick to do as he’s told, the anticipation of seeing Bucky’s mouth around his dick all the fuel he needs. “Yeah,” he nods, staggering out of the room. He makes it to the shower and flips it on, cranking the heat high like he knows Bucky likes it.

He stands there watching the water flow and his head dips. It’s relief, he thinks, that’s making him feel so loose and tired. He’s been holding onto his secret want for Bucky for a lifetime. The absence of the secret feels like a death. But a necessary one.

The bathroom starts to steam up, and Steve cracks a smile.

A strong pair of arms circles his waist and tugs him back against a warm chest. “Get in, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, pressing a line of kisses up Steve’s neck.

He does, stepping under the hot spray and letting it wash over him. His hand rubs away the mess Bucky left on his skin, and he misses it already.

Bucky doesn’t give him too long to dwell on it. “Turn around,” he says, firm but no less loving for it. “Back to the water.”

He does what Bucky says, and he sucks in a harsh breath when he sees Bucky on his knees, smirking like he’s cute and he knows it. “ _Jesus_.”

“Just me,” Bucky teases, sliding his hands up Steve’s wet legs. His fingers rub into sore muscle, and his thumbs rub over the crease of Steve’s thighs.

Steve’s cock jumps, already half-hard all over again. And he knew already that this was a… side effect. Didn't expect much to come of it.

Bucky reaches behind himself and grabs the soap from its dish, lathering his hands and setting it back down. His soapy palms slide easily up Steve’s legs, over his hips, between his thighs, and then he’s gripping Steve’s half-hard cock and stroking him easy as anything.

“So pretty, Stevie,” he purrs, smiling up at Steve like he’s won something big. “Bet you taste just as pretty. You think so?” He grins wide and strokes harder, working Steve up to a full hardness. “You think you’ll taste good buried in my throat?”

“Bucky,” Steve breathes, not stunned in the slightest that Bucky’s mouth runs filth when he’s naked on his knees.

Bucky cocks his head, lips parting as he just watches Steve above him. Steve’s breath goes shallow, and he’s flushed from more than just the heat of the water running down his back. He watches Bucky watch him, and his hips start to twitch.

“Turn around,” Bucky says, another command. Steve goes gooey with it, eager to please the man on his knees. He knows Bucky has the power here, no matter his position. He loves it.

He turns, letting the water wash the soap away, and then a pair of hands is on his hips, metal hot from the shower, flesh and bone still slick from the soap. 

“Think you wanna try somethin’ a little different?” Bucky purrs, brushing his lips across the small of Steve’s back. Steve feels his tongue flick into the dip at the curve of his spine, and he shudders with it. He nods, and he can swear he feels Bucky’s lips curl up in a pleased smile. “Good baby. Hands on the wall, sweetheart.”

Steve whines and half-turns, moving out of the direct spray of the water, and his palms hit the cool tile as his head dips. Bucky’s hands nudge his legs apart, and Steve feels exposed in a way that has him hiccuping on his breath.

“You okay? Say the word and we’re done.”

“Please don’t stop,” Steve breathes before the words are even all the way out of Bucky’s mouth. “I want anything. I want it.” _God_ does he want it. His cock is aching as it hangs heavy between his legs, giving a valiant twitch every time Bucky’s breath breezes over his damp skin. 

Bucky bends in and sinks his teeth into one cheek, growling as his tongue laves over the marks. Steve hisses as his hips buck, but he’s pressing back only a second later. The sting mingles with the anticipation zipping up his spine, twisting into something dark and lovely.

“Pretty boy,” Bucky murmurs. His hands are back, palms pressed to the backs of Steve’s thighs, thumbs brushing at the crease under his ass. “Bend over.”

Steve is quick to do as he’s told, taking a step back to dip his spine further. He’s barely stopped moving before Bucky’s thumbing his cheeks apart and licking a hard, purposeful stripe over his hole.

And nothing has ever felt like _that_. It’s foreign, but it’s so good Steve can’t breathe.

Bucky doesn’t stop to let him catch his breath, pressing in deep to lick into him, tongue doing the most sinful things as Steve’s fingers curl against the shower tile, forehead pressed to the cool wall. Steve’s whining like a whore, but he hasn’t got the sense to be ashamed as his body tingles with the want burning through him white-hot.

It’s over too soon, but Bucky tugs him to turn and has his cock swallowed down before Steve can miss it too much.

“Holy fuck,” Steve croaks, hips jerking forward before he can stop them. Bucky huffs a soft moan, fingers digging into Steve’s thighs, and Steve feels himself flush down his neck as he stills himself.

Bucky hums and it shoots electricity up Steve’s spine. He slides off with a wet pop, panting as he lets the head of Steve’s cock press to his parted lips. “Don’t hold back. I’m gonna make it so good for you, sweetheart. Give you what I’ve wanted to give you since we were teenagers. You ready?”

Steve just nods, eyes wide as he blinks down at Bucky. His hands tentatively find Bucky’s hair and thread through the damp mess of it. He cradles Bucky’s head, asking a silent question. Bucky just grins and dives back in.

Bucky’s mouth is fire-hot, tight, and the wet sounds of him choking down Steve’s cock are so lewd echoing off the tile in the bathroom. His eyelids go heavy as he looks up at Steve, and Steve knows he’d be smirking if his mouth wasn’t stuffed with dick. 

He’s the most beautiful Steve has ever seen him kneeling on the slick gray tile of their shared shower, hair fisted in Steve’s fingers, eyes shining as he takes Steve to the base on every stroke. _He’s got no business being so stunning_ , Steve thinks as his mind clears of everything else. Gorgeous. A dream.

Steve’s chin drops to his chest but his eyes never leave Bucky, lips parting as he pants and watches him work. His plush pink lips are stretched around Steve’s cock and his cheeks are hollowed out, sharpening the slash of his cheekbones. Steve thinks the wetness in his eyes is from more than just the shower.

The three remaining brain cells he’s got rattling around in his head are begging for charcoal and paper. He wants to get this moment down in perfect grayscale clarity so he can look at it again and again. Bucky on his knees. A perverse prayer.

The sounds Steve makes are obscene as Bucky swallows him down again and again. His hips jerk with every downstroke, and his grip on Bucky’s hair gets tighter the closer he gets to the end. That heat pools low again, and he knows it’s coming quick.

“Buck,” he croaks, eyes drinking Bucky in like a man in a desert. “Not gonna last. It’s so good.”

“Mmhm,” Bucky hums, taking him deep and _swallowing_. It squeezes his throat around Steve’s cock and Steve shouts with it, caught off guard, bucking hard as he spills down Bucky’s throat.

“Bucky,” he pants. “Baby. _Baby_.” He tugs Bucky closer by the hair like he can’t help himself, and Bucky grunts as his nose hits Steve’s skin.

Steve lets him go, embarrassed, already stumbling to apologize. “I’m sorry, Buck, God, I’m sorry.” He’s still struggling for breath, eyes wide.

Bucky grins, visibly pleased even as he gasps for breath. “Don’t be. Perfect.” His voice is rough, and Steve’s chest heats when he hears it. Bucky sits back on his heels and swallows again. His cock is hard between his legs.

“Are you…” Steve says, brow furrowing as he gestures vaguely. “Are you?”

Bucky laughs, head tilted as his bright eyes rake up Steve’s body. “Side effect. Don’t worry about it.”

“But could you…?”

“I’m good, honey,” he says softly and with a heavy affection. “If you’re done, we’re done.”

“But,” Steve murmurs, and he’s just full of _wants_ today. “I think… I think I want you to fuck me, too. If you want.”

Bucky sucks in a harsh breath, and Steve is so satisfied when his eyes go wide. “Yeah, pretty baby? Want my dick in you? Take you right here against the shower wall? Make you messy so I can clean you up again?”

Steve whines. “Yeah. Want it.”

The smile Bucky cracks is heart-aching. “I love you. Beautiful.”

Steve’s chest swells with pride. “Love you, too. C’mon. Fuck me.”

Bucky growls and is on his feet in a half a second. “Stay here, hands on the wall again. Don’t move ’til I get back.”

With a pitiful whimper, Steve’s hands are on the wall again. The shower is still going, and the water is still hot. He’s grateful for their modern apartment and the luxuries it affords. He’s perfectly still as the water runs over his legs, breath slowing in increments as he waits for Bucky.

He waits a few long minutes, mind going soft and easy as his head bows. He’s so relaxed he doesn’t hear Bucky return, and he jumps when hands land on his waist.

“You’re so good, sweetheart,” Bucky purrs, pressing kisses across Steve’s shoulder and up his neck. “Hands don’t leave the wall, got it?”

Steve nods, heart kicking back up as Bucky’s fingers slide between his cheeks, slick with lube. 

Another new sensation. Bucky’s warm fingers circle his hole, just the softest touch, no more than the barest hint of pressure, but he’s greedy for more immediately. 

“Pretty baby,” Bucky coos, lips pressed to the blood-hot skin of Steve’s neck. “So sweet for me, aren’t you? Doin’ everything I ask, so good.” He dips just the tip of his finger past the ring of muscle and Steve gasps, breath shuddering out of his chest.

“ _Baby_ ,” he breathes, overcome. The sound of the shower drowns out his quiet panting, but only just. He’s sure Bucky can hear him anyway.

That finger goes deeper and then comes back easy as anything, over and over, a slow and perpetual motion that has Steve rocking back like he can’t help it. 

“That feel good?” Bucky purrs. “Like it? Want more of it?”

Steve can only nod, eyes squeezed shut as he obediently keeps his hands on the wall. It’s getting more difficult with every slick press of that finger inside him. It feels so wrong that it’s right, the intrusion, and his hips don’t stop pressing back to feel more of it.

“You want another?” Bucky murmurs, and the tip of his middle finger rubs gently around Steve’s sensitive skin. When Steve nods he pushes in, slow and easy.

Steve gasps, head bowed low as his whole body relaxes like the strings holding him up have been cut. His hands don’t leave the wall.

“Yeah, babydoll,” Bucky says. “That good, huh? You like this better? Shoulda known you’d take it all sweet like honey.” His slow slide in goes further than it has been, and Steve sucks in a breath as his knuckles catch on the rim. “Relax, sweetheart, I got you.”

Steve lets the tension bleed out of his body again, melting like taffy as Bucky catches him around the waist. “Fuck,” he breathes, eyelids heavy as he blinks stupidly at the wall.

“Mmhm,” Bucky hums, scissoring his fingers deep. Steve’s hips jolt. “Want you to take one more and then I’ll give it to you.”

A third finger joins the others in a careful slide, and Steve whines when Bucky bottoms out. He stops there, fingers stuffed deep, and Steve can hear him panting into his shoulder.Bucky lets the moment stretch, and Steve relaxes with every passing second until he’s putty in his hands. 

“Like velvet,” Bucky says, voice low and awed. “Perfect. Want you around my cock. You ready?”

Steve whimpers and nods, forehead pressed to the wall. “Please.”

Bucky purrs and pulls his fingers free. “Good baby. Turn around for me, alright?”

Steve does, slowly spinning in place until he’s facing Bucky again, hole clenching around nothing. His eyes rake from Bucky’s toes to his face, and his breath stutters in his chest.

Bucky’s eyes are heavy-lidded, and they’re scorching as they flick over Steve’s body. His red lips are parted as he pants almost silently, fingers twitching into fists for a moment before he’s taking a step into Steve’s space. 

He bends down some and slips his arms under Steve’s thighs and hoists him up like he weighs nothing. Steve lets out a startled noise and grips Bucky’s shoulders tight as he presses him to the wall.

“Just like this,” Bucky says, eyes a little wide with wonder. His hand leaves Steve’s thigh for a moment, and Steve can feel the hot head of his cock pressing to his hole.

He starts to slide in, easy as anything, and Steve sighs with it, head dropped back as his looks at Bucky through his lashes. It’s good. It’s _so_ good. He feels like he should have had this all his life, like he cheated himself out of it.

But Bucky is giving it to him now, and that’s just fine.

He whimpers and mewls as Bucky buries himself inch by inch, writhing a little in his grip. “Baby,” he breathes, trying to catch the breath that’s been punched out of him. “ _Baby_.”

Bucky moans, jaw dropped as he bottoms out. “Shit,” he hisses. “So goddamn tight. Nothing’s ever gonna feel this good.”

Something like pride burns in Steve’s belly, and he rocks his hips to get a feel for the way Bucky’s cock fills him up. And that’s even better.

Bucky sucks in a breath. “Sweetheart,” he groans. “Good? Ready?” His hips twitch and it makes Steve see stars.

“Yeah,” Steve pants, nodding as he watches Bucky’s eyes flick down to his hard cock. It’s laying over his hip, flushed and jerking with every movement of Bucky inside him. He’s got another in him, he knows he does, and Bucky looks so pleased about it that Steve feels warm all over.

Bucky starts to move, and Steve gasps.

He wants to be fucked like this every day, shoved hard against the wall as Bucky drives his hips in deep and slow, rocking up with every thrust only to fall back into the cradle of Bucky’s arms. He feels possessed, owned, and he needs it like air.

“Bucky,” he says softly. “Yours. _Yours_.”

Bucky growls and shoves in hard, sending a bolt of pure heat up Steve’s spine. “You _are_ mine, sweet boy, gonna show you every chance I get. Put you on your knees, bend you over, fold you up under me so I can show you how much I love you.”

Steve’s vision goes white with how good that sounds, how good Bucky’s cock feels. Bucky’s quiet grunts every time he buries deep are sending Steve somewhere he can’t quantify. His head is light, and it’s not just from the heat of the water still running over his side. 

“Such a good baby, aren’t you?” Bucky says, voice rough and low. His lips are right against Steve’s ear, and Steve can feel the rumble of his words through his chest. “You like this? I’ll give it to you anytime you want.”

Steve nods slowly, eyes blinking heavily as he pants and whimpers, legs slung over Bucky’s arms.

“Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Bucky pants, hips snapping hard, cock dragging over parts deep that have Steve crying. “Put your lips on me and ask so sweet, I’ll give you anything you want, honey, anything.”

Steve chokes on a sob, cock bouncing against his belly as he rocks in Bucky’s arms. _Anything_.

“Want you forever,” he breathes, hands fisted in Bucky’s wet hair. He feels hot all over, itching with something that’s trying to crawl out of him. “Want you my whole life. All of it.”

“Yeah?” Bucky purrs, palm pressed to the wall by Steve’s head. His metal fingers are curled tight around Steve’s thigh where he’s holding it up, and Steve’s hoping for bruises to match Bucky’s. “Forever?” His silver dollar eyes are bright with a drugging blend of lust and adoration, and he bends in close enough that they’re not kissing so much as sharing breath.

Steve groans as a hard thrust hits his prostate dead on. “Forever,” he cries, eyes stinging. He tilts his head to slot their lips together better, but they still aren’t kissing, not really. It’s clumsy and misses far more than it hits, but it’s perfect.

Bucky draws back and his eyes are dark and heavy-lidded. His red lips are slick and parted as he pants between them, and his thrusts go slow and languid. “You wanna marry me, sweet boy?” he asks, so softly Steve almost can’t hear him over the roar of the shower.

He does, though. “What?” he croaks, heart stuttering hard in his chest.

Bucky cracks a lopsided smile and bends in close again. “Marry me, Stevie,” he breathes, words fanning over Steve’s lips to dissipate in the steamed air of the bathroom. He’s barely moving now, and it’s almost better that way.

And Steve wants to weep with it, the tenderness with which Bucky holds him, moves inside him. The now careful curl of his fingers over Steve’s thigh, the flesh and bone hand that finds its way to Steve’s hair. 

Steve hiccups a little sob and grips Bucky tight by the hair to drag him in. It’s as good an answer as any other, the kiss he gives the man holding him up. It’s a promise, a declaration, a confession. A desperate, resounding _yes_. Bucky moans deep and crushes himself against Steve as best he can, hips snapping in hard again.

He picks right back up, fucking Steve through the tile as they kiss and bite and share air. 

“ _God_ , you feel good,” Bucky growls, fisting his hand in Steve’s hair. “Gonna have you like this as often as I can. Soft and sweet and stuffed full of my cock. Made for me, honey, made to take me. Feel good?”

Steve whines, leaning into the sharp pull of Bucky’s hand in his hair. “‘S good,” he pants, clenching tight around the steady drive of Bucky’s cock. He likes this best of all, feeling full, feeling consumed. Feeling like he belongs to this man and no one else. “All yours. Anytime you want.”

Bucky chokes on a rough, wounded sound, teeth gritted hard as he buries himself deep and holds there. “So pretty.” His hand leaves Steve’s hair and finds his throat again, pinning him like that to the cool tile. “All mine. Been mine all our lives, haven’t you.”

And Steve knows he’s crying, feels the sting of his eyes as his tears spill over to mingle with the shower water that flecks up over his face. He can’t help but weep as he bounces in Bucky’s arms, overwhelmed, overcome. 

“Oh, honey,” Bucky purrs, voice in the gutter. “Look at you, cryin’ for my cock. You like it that much? So sweet.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve hiccups, watching the way Bucky’s eyes go dark and possessive. It’s a good look on him, he wears it like he was born to. 

He feels that heat again, even as his neglected cock lays heavy over his belly. He’s surprised by it, by how close he is without a touch, and he whines high in his throat, baring his neck to Bucky’s hand. “Baby,” he whimpers. “Baby, baby.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky breathes, leaning in for a searing kiss. His teeth dig hard into Steve’s lip, hard enough that Steve tastes copper, and that’s it. 

Steve gasps, a deep, wet inhale as his cock throbs and he spills over his own hip. His wide eyes find Bucky’s and hold them, tears leaking down his cheeks. He never thought it could feel as good as this. 

“Fuck,” Bucky spits, thrusting in hard and desperate. He’s chasing his own release, now, and Steve hangs on tight as he babbles encouragement, panting and writhing in Bucky’s grip. 

“Please,” he breathes, fingers digging hard into Bucky’s biceps. “Please, please, baby I want it. Want it.”

Bucky sucks in a harsh breath and lets it out on a pained groan, shoving in hard as he ruts deep. His forehead drops to Steve’s as his hips still, and Steve can swear he feels the heat of his come flooding him. Some of it drips out, sliding wet down Steve’s thighs. Bucky’s marked him up again, and it’s his new favorite way.

Everything stills, and the sound of the shower almost drowns out their harsh breathing as they hang in that moment aware of nothing but each other. Bucky’s eyes are bright, but deeply satisfied, and Steve can’t tear his own eyes away. 

He’s still crying, even more overwhelmed than before. The release this time was more emotional than the others, a deep, bone-aching satisfaction that has him hiccuping on his breath. 

“I love you,” he breathes, over and over. “I love you.”

Bucky’s heat-filled eyes soften, and a sweet smile curls his kiss-bitten lips. “Love you, sweet thing. Don’t cry. You’re okay. I have you.”

Steve nods, sniffling as his tears slow. “Yeah,” he sighs. “You have me.”

He’s still held up by Bucky’s strong arms, and he sags as a soul-deep exhaustion washes over him smooth. “Tired,” he says softly, head thunking back against the wall. 

Bucky’s smile goes wider, amused, and he gentles Steve’s legs to the ground. “Let me wash you up, we can go to bed. Wore you out good, tonight.”

“Was real good,” Steve murmurs as he steps under the spray of the shower. “So good.”

Bucky chuckles as his soapy hands clean Steve up. His fingers brush softly over Steve’s loose hole, and Steve is too tired to choke back his whine. “Hush, babydoll,” Bucky says sweetly. “Made a mess of you, let me fix it.”

With a shuddering sigh, Steve tips back to lean against Bucky’s warm chest. His eyes flutter closed as he lets himself be taken care of. It’s perfect. Everything he could ever want. 

They shower quick and Bucky reaches around Steve to shut the water off. He towels him down, and then himself, and he helps Steve step into the boxers he’d laid out on the counter. 

“You’re a good boy, sweetheart,” Bucky coos as he presses a chaste kiss to Steve’s lips. “Let’s go, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, smiling. “Let’s go.”

——

The bedroom is dark when he comes back, but he can see that Bucky’s changed the sheets and added two pillows. Steve sleeps with two pillows.

Bucky catches him standing motionless at the foot of the bed, and Steve hears him sigh. “Thought maybe you’d wanna sleep in here tonight,” he murmurs, and he sounds unsure in a way he hasn’t all night. 

Steve’s eyes squeeze shut and images flick through his head like pictures tumbling to the ground. 

A bed warmed by a body other than his own. Pressing his face into soft hair. Lips on his own as he falls into a deep, satisfied sleep. The love of his life sleeping beside him. He wants all of it. All of it. 

His eyes blink open and he turns to find Bucky’s gaze turned away. He can’t have that. “Bucky,” he says softly, stepping right into Bucky’s space so he has no choice but to meet Steve’s eyes. “It’s all I want.”

Bucky’s smile is slow and pleased. “Stay in here with me. We can move your stuff in. Make your room a studio. Your room has bigger windows, better light. We can shove a chair in there so I can watch you paint.” His eyes are full of hope, and it makes Steve’s heart ache something fierce. 

“Yeah,” he says. But he frowns as something nags at him. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m sorry... we didn’t do this sooner. We should have. I should have.”

“No, babydoll,” Bucky says sweetly. He’s still smiling, and his eyes are still shining. “Never be sorry. We both needed time. We’re here, now, and we can spend the rest of our lives like this. You ready for it?”

“I am,” Steve says, more sure than he’s ever been. He smiles, and it’s a careful thing. “Courthouse? Or do you want a big, stupid wedding?”

Bucky laughs, and it’s that laugh that Steve has always craved. “Big one, I think. Let Wilson be your best man. Nat can be my maid of honor. They’ll be sick with how pleased they are. Let Stark plan the damn thing, we can sit back and watch the circus. You want that?”

Steve huffs a laugh, smile stretching wide. “Sounds perfect.”

Bucky smiles. “I know you are, sweetheart. Lay down. Let me hold you. Please.”

It sounds so good that Steve stumbles over his own feet getting into bed. Bucky laughs behind him, but it’s happy. It’s sweet. Steve buries himself in Bucky’s comforter, and it smells like him. He shoves his nose in it and sighs. 

The bed dips, and he’s no longer alone. The heat of Bucky’s body warms him through as he’s tugged back against a furnace of a chest, and a cool arm presses across his whole front, a protective hold that makes his head fuzzy. 

He feels sleep start to nip at his heels, and he lets it chase him toward a cliff’s edge. “I love you,” he breathes as he starts to fall over. 

The last thing he hears is Bucky saying it back, over and over like a prayer. 

——

Dawn is breaking across the cozy bedroom, and Steve blinks his eyes to see the pink light of early morning creeping across the floor. His eyes flick around and his brow furrows when he realizes he’s not in his own room. 

He’s in Bucky’s, and the previous night slams back to him in perfect clarity. 

He whimpers softly as he turns under the covers, and there he is, his Bucky, still asleep beside him. He’s on his stomach, but he’s facing Steve, and his hand is fisted in Steve’s pillow. He looks so soft that Steve can’t tear his eyes away. 

His sun-kissed back rises and falls with deep, easy breaths, and Steve shuffles close to tuck in under his chin.

“Never loved anything like I love you,” he murmurs, and a confession tumbles out of him before he can call it back. “Not once in my whole life. I was ready to lose you, and I’ll thank God every day that I don’t have to. Not again.”

Bucky is still quiet, but he makes a soft sound that melts Steve’s heart. He lets Bucky sleep beside him, and Bucky’s arm comes up to draw him close. Steve is buried in him as far as he can go, but it isn’t enough; he wants to peel back Bucky’s ribs and climb inside, never leave, never be alone again. 

He thinks Bucky would let him. 

“Love you, too, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs, voice rough with sleep. “Every day.” Warm lips press to Steve’s forehead. “You never lost me. Not really. You never will.”

Steve smiles, and his heart swells. “Good,” he says, as pure, blissful peace washes over him like an ocean wave over hot sand. “That’s good.”

——

The journals _are_ for different things. And one of them is just titled _Steve_. It’s the biggest one, and Steve cries when Bucky reads it to him. Memories, thoughts, feelings. Steve learns, then, that he’s meant something real to Bucky all their lives. That his hidden feelings were reciprocated. 

There’s a ring on Bucky’s finger, now, a gold band with a gleaming stripe of black around the middle. It matches the polish that’s always there. 

Funny that a little black paint led to this. 

But it was always going this way, wasn’t it? Decades brought them here, to a home full of trinkets, walls covered in pictures, plants they haven’t managed to kill, and a pair of wedding rings. 

And Bucky will tease to whoever will listen that this was his plan all along, that a little black nail polish worked like a charm.

Steve will laugh every time, fond and wry, but he thinks to himself that it would have happened no matter what. There wasn’t a single thing that could ever stop his love for Bucky.

The polish is a perk, though.

**Author's Note:**

> My third published fic and wouldn't you know it, it's like 80% porn. Good for me?
> 
> Someone said "Bucky with black nail polish" and when I started breathing again I opened a new document. This was only supposed to be 5k words, and it was only supposed to be fluffy smut, and it wasn't supposed to be emotional but I am broken inside so this is what came out. Oops! Forgive me.
> 
> I had zero beta for this one, so in my defense I was left unsupervised. Yikes.
> 
> Publishing a short and sweet one either today or tomorrow, but I wanted to get this nasty boy out into the ether before I lost all my nerve.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, thank you for commenting and bookmarking and kudos-ing, it means everything. Happy reading!!
> 
> <3 Meggo


End file.
